I am tired

Says the hearse,
carrying corpses of words;
poems in search of its burial ground.

I am tired
of the wails and whimpers.

I am tired
of the day for the dead.

Love is the bridge without hand railings
and I am the coffin wagon.
I wish I could be the bell ringer.

sea and the nymph of the rhyming times

keep your ears close to my lips.

you will hear

boom. 

i will tell you

a tongue twister;

ripples of me inside you.   

you will recite the chant

“she sells seashells in the seashore.”

in my fingertips

the sea will dance. 

Haik-ing

Hope

Insane world...

A gentle ripple

Wets my toe

Stranger

New landscape

Unknown portraits

Unheard scents.

Reflection

Winter nights

Your eyes

My mirror

Longing

A little sea

A tear drop 

And a smile

pages

a short perspective on in-growth

i exist

inside the veins  

i crawl

under the skin

i grow

quick and wide

and leave dark marks

ugly and painful marks of joy

which will refuse to fade away

even with incisions to pull me out

i leave marks on the body,

branding you for life as mine.

i am your birthmark still.  

beached

every drop of salt

stuck inside the head

nauseates…

every grain of sand

touching my flesh

aches.  

woo